O Brawling Love!
by amortentiaaffair
Summary: After Ginny obtains a painful Quidditch injury, Draco Malfoy saunters back into her life. Now she must choose between her first love and her worst hate.
1. 01 Bruises

_Title: O Brawling Love!_

_Summary: After Ginny obtains a painful Quidditch injury, Draco Malfoy saunters back into her life. Now she must choose between her first love and her worst hate. _

_A/N: In this story, Ginny struggles between a relationship with Harry and a relationship with Draco. Both pairings will be equally present, though I don't know who she will end up with in the end. I guess we'll see where this goes and what you guys have to say about it? Also, I don't really know what to list the pairing as in the main summary, so I hope I did alright._

_In other notes, this story is rated M. While not every chapter will be a smutfest, there will be sex. Keep that in mind. Thanks for reading!_

_Disclaimer: I get nothing out of writing these stories but enjoyment._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: Bruises<strong>

Ginny lowered herself onto her seat with a painful sigh. Having taken a bludger to her left side in the Harpies' last match, simply breathing made her whole body ache. She had been avoiding her paperwork for almost a week, fearing the hard, thick wood of her desk chair and the lack of support it gave her, but when the mountain of envelopes and letterheads had avalanched onto her floor, she knew she couldn't procrastinate much longer.

"Arnie," the twenty year old witch addressed her small purple puff of a pet as she took an envelope off the top of the stack, "I'm getting too old for this." It cooed at her in response.

The first envelope happened to contain praise and well wishes for her recovery from a fan. So did the second and the third and the fourth. The fifth and the sixth were bills, water and hospital, respectively. The patterned had continued that way, letter after letter after letter. It was an hour before she saw anything different.

This envelope was a stark white and sprawled across the face in deep green ink was her name, _Miss Ginerva Weasley,_ and her address. It was reminiscent of her old Hogwarts letters, almost, though the top left corner listed The Daily Prophet as its sender. She slid a short, unpolished nail under the flap to open it. The letter inside was written with the same deep green ink as the envelope, had a neat, straight crease, and smelled faintly of musk and tobacco.

_Miss Weasley_, it read,

_Our team here at the Daily Prophet is very interested in your recovery of the injuries you have recently suffered. As we are sure our readers share our well wishes, we are interested in doing an interview with you about what has happened and what your near future holds. We are looking to run this piece in our Sunday issue, so if you could please send your owl to us by Wednesday with response, we would greatly appreciate it. We hope to hear from you soon, Miss Weasley._

_Yours,  
>Barnabus Cuffe<br>Editor-In-Chief_

"Wednesday, Wednesday," she mumbled, shifting her stack of unopened letters away from her desk calendar. "Reply by Wednesday and today is…." Her brown eyes scanned the paper and she nibbled slightly at her lower lip. There it was, the seventeenth, a… Thursday. "Shit."

Arnold let out a loud squeak as he was nearly thrown off the desk in Ginny's mad search for fresh parchment. "Sorry, babe," she apologized half-heartedly, "mommy loves you. Now, what… have you done… with mommy's ink well?

"Aha!" She had just gathered her supplies and cleared off a space to respond when her fireplace erupted into tall, green flames. Her pygmy puff gave another squeak and Ginny choked a little on the dense air.

"Hello?" she called, waving a quill-wielding hand to clear away the smoke and ash. She winced as she stood and called out again.

A male voice, floating detached amongst the soot, could be heard mumbling a quiet charm. The smoke dissipated instantly, leaving a smudge-faced, though smiling, Harry Potter in its wake. A big bouquet of sunflowers had sprouted from the tip of his wand.

"Harry James Potter!" she scolded (though mockingly, of course, as the grin on her face was wider than his.) "Is this what they've been teaching you in Auror School? Cheap muggle parlor tricks and flashy entrances? I'd ask for my money back, if I were you!"

Harry wasted no time in laying his wand aside and scooping her into his arms. She flinched in his grasp but returned the gesture in twofold.

"Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Ginny shook her head sweetly, stepping back to look at him. "It was worth it."

The small witch plucked the bouquet from his wand and left for the kitchen to find a vase.

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't allowed to leave campus except for weekends." She spoke loudly, calling to him over running water. Ginny worked quickly to cut the stems at a slant and arrange the flowers in a hand-me-down milk glass vase.

He called to her from her office, in response. "I snuck off as soon as I heard. I had to make sure my best girl was alright."

"Hermione's not your best girl?" Ginny asked, re-entering the room.

Harry laughed. "I think she's your brother's best girl, now."

It was true. The two had just recently announced their engagement. They had spent every day together as a couple for the last four years, since that fateful day of war. Ron had even come to visit her when Hermione returned to Hogwarts, and she had often snuck into Auror School to stay with him. Ginny was constantly berated by her mother for not having that sort of relationship with Harry. It wasn't for lack of trying, in her defense - hell, Harry still tried on occasion – but they had agreed it wasn't the right time in their lives for that. Ginny spent all of the Quidditch season on tour with the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry was busy with his training year-round. Their schedules left no room for romance. Still, she was often left awake at night, thinking of those stolen kisses they had shared back at Hogwarts. But it did neither of them any good to dream.

"The flowers are lovely, Harry, thank you." Her voice was soft, honest.

He joined her in the threshold, reaching out gingerly to touch her injured side. "What happened, exactly?"

"A rather rough bludger happened. You know how it goes."

He nodded.

"It seems I've completely broken two of my ribs. The doctor said it was beyond the point of charm healing."

"May I see?" Harry asked, though he was already rolling up the worn cotton of her t-shirt.

Ginny pinned her shirt to her chest with one hand, allowing Harry's fingers to explore her bruised skin.

The visible black lace of her bra made his face hot. He wanted to press his lips against it. Instead, Harry's hand carefully brushed over her side. The skin was purple and blue and it masked any trace of her freckles. Harry missed those freckles at night.

A pained grimace set itself on Ginny's thin lips.

"I shouldn't keep you," she said at last. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

"Bye, Gin." Harry hid a quick kiss in her sweeping red hair as he pulled her shirt back into place. "Take care of yourself, okay? I don't want to hear any more of this injury stuff."

Harry stepped back into her fireplace with a hand full of ash. With a flash of green and a puff of smoke, he was gone, leaving Ginny to lean against her door frame, head swimming in memories passed.

The sight of parchment stacked high on her desk brought Ginny back to now. She sighed and settled back into her chair. With her quill dipped in midnight purple ink and her hand poised over clean parchment, she began to write.

_Mr. Cuffe,_

_Please excuse my late response, I am just now beginning to get around to responding to my mail. If there is still time, I would love to meet with your staff. It is very important to me that the Harpies fans know what's going on. My schedule is clear tomorrow, Friday the eighteenth, so if you would simply like to send over one of your journalists, my floo line is always open. Again, I apologize for waiting this long to get back to you._

_Sincerely,  
>Ginerva Weasley<em>

The parchment was folded neatly and tucked away inside an envelope addressed to Barnabus Cuffe, Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Prophet. It was sealed with gold wax, pressed in the shape of quaffle.

"Oswald!" Ginny stood and yelled from the doorway, into the next room. "Oz, c'mere!"

A small barn owl flew to her and landed on her shoulder. The bird held out its leg, waiting for the letter. Ginny attached it with a purple ribbon as she instructed, "Get this to the Daily Prophet as soon as you possibly can. Wait there until word comes back. Not just the Evening Prophet, but a letter as well. Can you do that for me?"

The bird nuzzled her chin with its feathered head before taking off out the open window.

* * *

><p><strong>Soundtrack<strong>: Bruises, by Chairlift  
><em>I tried to do handstands for you,<br>I tried to do headstands for you.  
>Every time I fell on you, yeah, every time I fell.<br>I tried to do handstands for you,  
>but every time I fell for you.<br>I'm permanently black and blue, permanently blue for you._


	2. 02 Dickhead

_Title: O Brawling Love!_

_Summary:_ _After Ginny obtains a painful Quidditch injury, Draco Malfoy saunters back into her life. Now she must choose between her first love and her worst hate._

_Disclaimer: I get nothing out of writing these stories but enjoyment._

**Chapter Two: Dickhead**

Ginny had been fretting all morning. Interviews had never failed to make her nervous. She could play Quidditch with the best of them (she liked to think she did), scoring goal after goal in front of millions of fans without a trace of performance anxiety. But record what she had to say? It twisted her stomach in knots to think of all the Daily Prophet's readers skimming over her interview. Any question could be thrown at her and she had to answer. What if she sputtered? What if it was too personal? They would capture it all and hand it straight to the public.

Never mind the fact that Ginny was considered one of the nicest and most poised athletes one could interview. You could tell her this a thousand times, and she'd still fret.

Ginny had recited everything she had wanted to say in the shower. She spoke of her last game while she shampooed her hair. She repeated the news of her month-long hiatus to herself as she rinsed out her conditioner. Although she grimaced, Ginny told the mirror briefly of her personal life as she cleaned and dressed her bruise. There was no way she was going to mess this up.

She was dressing when the staff arrived at her flat, slipping into white uniform pants. She wore a thick, covering sports bra under her Harpies promotional t-shirt in case they wanted pictures of her side.

"Hello?" a female voice called from her office, "Ginny? I'm here from the Daily Prophet."

"Just a minute," Ginny called back, "I'm in here, dressing." She smoothed back the stray hairs in her thick orange plait and took a deep breath. She was ready for this.

Ginny pushed open the door of her room to be greeted with a bright flash of light. She stumbled, reaching for the wall, as bright spots danced in her vision. The girl who had greeted her ran to catch her, saying "oh, I'm so sorry about that. I'm Lucy Cabro, of the Daily Prophet, and this is my photographer-"

Her vision had cleared, the spots leaving her to set sights on a tall, thin blonde with a camera and an unapologetic smirk. "Draco Malfoy," Ginny said, "a sight for _sore_ eyes."

"Careful, Weasley," he returned. To the unknowing ear, his tone would've sounded civil – helpful, even. But Ginny knew him. "You wouldn't want to break your hip as well."

"You two know each other?" Lucy asked, finally able to steady the redheaded witch.

"We went to school together," he answered before she could.

"Well!" Lucy clasped her hands together. "Now that you two have caught up, let's get this started, shall we?"

"Yes, of course. Right this way." Ginny lead the pair to her living room, almost begrudgingly. She had always thought her flat to be luxurious and homey, but with Draco Malfoy in it, it felt as crowded and tattered as the Burrow had. How he must be judging her, living in his marble mansion. "I'm sorry if it's cramped," she felt the need to excuse herself, "they don't exactly make giant apartments for one person."

Lucy laughed. She seemed the type of bubbly person to find just about anything funny. She then looked to Draco, as if she was waiting for him to take charge.

And take charge, he did. "Luce, how about you sit there in that chair, and Weasley, the couch. What side is your injured side again?" She tapped at her left hip and he sat down on the left side of the couch. She took her seat in the middle.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Weasley," Lucy began, pulling parchment and a quill from her bag. "My daughters are big Harpies fans."

Ginny blushed and Draco snapped a picture. "Um, please.." she was slightly thrown off, "you can call me Ginny."

"Alright, Ginny," her quill was poised to write. "Why don't you start us off with what happened?"

"We were playing Puddlemere United, which is always quite an eventful match – you recall the Ilkley Moor riots, just two years ago, I'm sure. Well, it was quite the competition and the stakes are high. I mean, they are really giving Gwen a run, and she's been taking bludger after bludger all game. I'm about to score a goal, right, and while Gwen has a go with one of their beaters, the other lobs a bludger straight for me. It hits me hard, nearly knocks me off my broom. I can hardly breathe, but I still made that goal. Oliver Wood was none too happy after that one."

"And what injuries did you obtain?"

"I broke two ribs on my left side. The doctor said it was too severe to fix with a charm."

Draco snapped a picture as she gingerly touched her side.

"And what about Skelegrow?"

"When I was fourteen, I broke my ankle in the war-" she resisted the temptation to shoot a glare at Draco- "and had to take Skelegrow. While it worked, it also gave me muscle spasms for about a month. No one likes a twitchy Chaser."

Lucy laughed. "You said Oliver Wood? He used to be a keeper for the Gryffindor team, isn't that right? Have you worked with him before?"

"I sadly never had a chance to play with him. I didn't try out until Oliver had left and Harry was captain."

"Speaking of Harry Potter, how is that going? What's your relationship with him? Inquiring minds want to know."

Ginny blushed even harder. "Oh, Harry and I are friends. That's all we've ever been." Draco snorted and Ginny couldn't help but glare at him now. _Stay professional_, she had to remind herself. She kept talking. "My schedule is just too full for any sort of relationship, and his is even fuller. He's going through auror training, right now, along with my brother and our friend, Neville."

"What's your schedule going to look like, now?"

"My doctor says I can't play for at least a month. I'll need to see him again before I get the okay. Maria Monteith, an Australian Chaser, will be my replacement until I return, and myself and the Harpies have the upmost faith in her."

Lucy nodded as she finished writing. "Well, I think that about sums it up. Do you mind if I use your restroom before we floo out?"

Ginny pointed out the bathroom door and she and Draco sat in silence for a minute as his coworker had them.

"Do you mind if I get a picture of your bruising?" He said at last.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Where? In here?"

A sneer set on his lips as he looked around her living room. Her walls were cluttered with family pictures and medals and trophies. He recalled her office being the same way. "Do you have a blank wall anywhere in this house?"

"I have a brick wall in my bedroom," she said.

"Lead the way," he told her, standing up.

Draco followed the girl into her bedroom, where she began to peel off her shirt. The situation was so familiar to him, yet so foreign. Because it was Ginny Weasley, so he snapped a picture – red hair poking out of a forest green shirt and inches of freckled skin exposed. "Y'know," he told her, "green is more fitting on you than red ever was."

"Shut up," she said.

He took picture after picture of her in front of the brick wall. "Profile," he ordered, "now front again."

"I trust you not to use any of these for personal enjoyment." It was a dig against him.

He was about to tell her that never in his life would he want to, but Lucy poked her head in the door.

"About done?" she asked.

"Yeah," Draco said, "I'll be out in one second."

Ginny put her shirt back on. "It certainly was... _something_, seeing you again, Malfoy."

"Well, bask in it," he told her on his way out, "because I don't plan on making it a common occurrence."

**Soundtrack** – Dickhead, by Kate Nash  
><em>Thirty five people couldn't count<br>on two hands the amount of times you made me stop –  
>stop and think 'why are you being such a dickkhead for?'<em>


End file.
